


All's Fair In

by LadyVegeets



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Prank War, Vegebul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets
Summary: All's fair in love and war.3-year-gap silliness ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musicofthespheres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/gifts).



 

3...

 

Bulma stood outside the guest bathroom, glowering at the door. Steam fumed from her like one of her malfunctioning inventions. _The nerve of some people._ Vegeta was still in the shower. For over a goddamn hour. Look, she was all for cleanliness; not much could beat a long hot shower to wash away the aches and stress of a hard day. It’s not like she wanted to begrudge the man that luxury. But c’mon, an hour? What the hell was he even doing in there? 

It wasn’t the money. She was rich enough to pay the bill, and it wasn’t the environmental concern. Capsule Corporation recycled a lot of its waste water. No, it was the sheer principle of the matter. There were other people (aka her) in this house who needed hot water, damnit, and as a guest it was only polite that Vegeta consider his impact.

Ugh. Vegeta be considerate? Right, she should have known better.

Still, she had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and talk to him. That went as well as could be expected. He only snorted and walked off, claiming this matter was somehow not his problem.

“You’re the genius, aren’t you? You fix it,” had been his parting quip. It dug and burrowed under her skin and kept her awake all night, fueling her thoughts of revenge.

Sure enough she found him once again showering — going on 72 minutes now — without any concern for anyone else. The arrogant self-centered jerk.

 _Just you wait, Vegeta. This genius_ will _fix the problem._

Bulma pulled out a control from her pocket and with all the force of righteous indignation, pressed the red button.

A minute later — long enough for the last of the hot water to run dry — some very colorful cursing issued from the bathroom. The door flew open and there, in all his wet muscled glory, stood a very disgruntled saiyan. A hastily snatched towel dangled from one hand in front of his waist, allowing Bulma a generous eyeful of muscle definition that put even her wildest fantasies to shame.

Dear Kami, he was _stacked_.

“YOU!” 

The snarled syllable snapped her attention to furious black eyes which attempted to murder her on the spot.

Slipping the remote into her back pocket, Bulma feigned surprise. “Me?”

His lip curled up, a sharp canine flashing in the light. “Turn the hot water back on.”

She cocked her head. “Vegeta, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If there’s no more hot water, you must have used it all up.”

He wasn’t buying it, coming right at her. _Oh crap_. Having a healthy sense of self preservation, Bulma backed up only too late realizing the wall behind her blocked any escape. She hit it. A second later a powerful arm slammed by the side of her head.

“I don’t enjoy being toyed with,” Vegeta said in a low voice.

“And I don’t enjoy taking cold showers because SOMEONE is being selfish!” Bulma spat back. 

He leaned in. The weight of his presence was suffocating. “Turn it. Back on.” He enunciated between gritted teeth. 

“Or what?” Bulma tilted up her chin with all the arrogance her privileged upbringing brought. How dare he try and intimidate her in her own home? She had endured far too many near-death experiences to be so easily cowed. Besides, he couldn’t hurt her, not without screwing himself out of a home and calling down the wrath of Goku, and until he turned Super Saiyan, they both knew how one sided that battle would be.

The flash of irritation in his onyx eyes told her all she needed to know. She had called his bluff. Emboldened, she leaned forward and jabbed her finger against his shower-flushed chest. “My house. My rules.”

His cheek twitched. “I’m near killing myself to protect your miserable planet from some overpowered tin cans, and you’re squabbling over some hot water?” 

Bulma let out a very unlady-like snort. “Spare me. You’re only ‘killing’ yourself to show-up Goku in what amounts to a Saiyan dick-measuring contest.” 

“A _what_?” Vegeta reeled back, his hand tightening over the towel at his crotch. 

Struck a nerve, had she? Smirking at her small victory, Bulma allowed her eyes to wander down his torso to the tempting V of his hips — lingering there for a moment on the glimpse of his happy trail — before sliding back up again. “It’s just an expression.”

He was blushing furiously. “I don’t have time for your vulgarities, woman.” He stepped away, hastily wrapping the towel around his waist to make his retreat.

“Aren’t you going to finish your shower?” Bulma called after him. 

He paused, cold eyes glaring at her. “When I’m finished with something, you’ll know it.”

“Promises, promises,” she purred as she watched him leave, the muscles of his back ripple pleasantly. A sane person would heed his warning and flee the known universe. But Bulma had always liked a good challenge.

* * *

 

~xox~

 

 **AN: Jadefyre**  wanted a “prank war” drabble. Only the drabble kind of turned into a mini-fic. Whoops. 


	2. Chapter 2

**2…**

 

Bulma wasn’t skilled at sensing ki. At least, not to the same extent as Goku and the others were, but she still had something of a six sense — perhaps through sheer repeated exposure to ki — and right now that sense was telling her something very powerful and angry loomed at her right shoulder.

“Vegeta, is there something you wanted?” she asked without looking up from the delicate circuit-board she was performing surgery on.

“Your useless gravity-modulated training vessel has malfunctioned.”

“Yeeaaahh, we just call it the GR.”

An exhaled huff indicated that the Saiyan’s patience was already thin. “Whatever it is called, it is broken. Fix it.”

“Go ask my father. I’m in the middle of something.”

“I… was… unable to locate him.”

Oh? Vegeta’s hesitation was rare enough to warrant a side-glance. Bulma found him standing at her side looking more rigid than usual, hands fisted and expression pained. It wasn’t like him to be so flustered, except those times she had made sexual innuen—

“Oh my god.” Her parents were at it again, weren’t they?

Their eyes met, and for a moment Bulma and Vegeta stood in awkward solidarity, two survivors of a horror best not spoken of.

“This is… not uncommon?” he asked with a pained look.

“Ugh. Why do you think as a girl I traveled the world with Goku and his pervy friends instead of staying at home?” She would take Oolong lusting after her panties any day of the week over the sounds of her parents going at it.

“Hn. So that’s why you tolerate Kakarot’s buffoonery.” Vegeta regarded her with new eyes, as if he had suddenly found the answer to a puzzling problem.

She laughed. “Well, that, and a dragon ball I couldn’t make him part with. But hey, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Right?” 

He gave her an odd look, his brow creasing as he tried to make sense of her words, perhaps contemplating the irony of his own situation. A silence descended over them, but it was oddly comfortable. Huh. Did they just share a ‘moment’? No one was going to believe her.

It felt rude to send him away now, so Bulma turned off her soldering iron and decided to play nice. “You broke the GR?”

Vegeta’s contemplative look crumpled into his usual scowl. “ _I_ broke nothing. _Your_ machine was not satisfactory to the task of keeping up with my immeasurable strength.”

Oh jeez. Was it even physically possible to roll her eyes as dramatically as that statement required? “Wow. Tell me again how it is you don’t have any friends.”

“Says the girl who had to resort to perverts for companionship.”

Ouch. She chose not to answer lest her temper got the better of her. Besides, he kind of had a point. She grabbed her tools and headed for the GR, not bothering to see if Vegeta followed. 

The space ship sat intact in the back yard. Good, he hadn’t totally destroyed it then. She stepped inside and looked around, prepared to see a slew of broken drones, frayed wires, and angry red flashing lights. Instead, everything looked pristine. Odd. Was it a software error then?

“Vegeta, what exactly is broke—”

 _Bang_! The door slammed shut behind her, followed by a horrible ear-rending shrill as metal warped and twisted. Bulma slapped her hands over her ears and turned to see what the hell was happening.

Vegeta smirked at her from the other side of the little bubble window. “Door’s broken,” he drawled.

Bulma ran over and tugged on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The sneaky bastard had intentionally broken it, trapping her in. “You asshole!” she screamed, slamming her hands on the door. “You think I can’t get myself out of here?”

His eyes crinkled, soaking up her ire with a sadistic smile. “I’ve no doubt you can. You’re a clever thing. But it will take you some time, time enough for me to enjoy a long hot shower.”

All this? He had done all this for a fucking hot shower?! 

Vegeta walked away, laughing to himself as her curses echoed off the inside of the GR.

 _Oh, just you wait, Vegeta. This is so_ not _over._

* * *

 

~xox~ 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**…1**

 

 

Once she repaired the GR’s door, Bulma rigged the internal speakers to blast the best of girl pop from the 80s. Non-stop.

Vegeta got her back that night by charging up his ki, loudly, right outside her window when she was dead asleep. His loud, “H-AAAAAAAAHHHH!” jolted her from her bed in a panic. He laughed himself all the way to his bedroom.

It took her a week, but she was able to fabricate a perfect replica of his battle suit. Only this one didn’t stretch, and was two sizes too small. By the time Vegeta emerged from his room to train (an hour later than usual), he had resorted to wearing human clothing, and glowered at her for all of breakfast.

The next time she returned from a business conference, every strawberry-flavored thing in the house had been eaten, including her friggin’ lip-balm _and_ her secret stash of strawberry-filled chocolate she kept for emergency situations.

That _monster_! Oh, this meant _war_.

She allowed a couple weeks to pass before retaliating, letting Vegeta think he had won. If it occurred to her that provoking a galactic mass-murderer might not be very smart, Bulma swiftly dismissed such concerns. She was a genius, therefore everything she did was smart.

“ _WOMAN!!_ ”

The house shook with his bellow, and her heart-rate skyrocketed. No doubt giving away her ki location as clearly as a blipping dragon ball on her radar would.

Seconds later the lab door slammed opened and her surly housemate descended upon her like an all-consuming sand storm. He must have come from the GR as he only wore pants and boots, his torso glistening brightly with sweat. It would have been a sight fit for a men’s health magazine if not for the way his eyes burned so hatefully.

 _Here it comes_. Bulma braced herself for his tirade. But Vegeta had other plans. He marched behind her work station and _grabbed her by the arm_ , yanking her up.

“Vegeta!” she squealed. “What are you doing?!”

“You’re coming with me,” he growled. 

“How dare you! Let me go, you brute!” 

He didn’t, ignoring her protests as he dragged her out of her lab and down the hall. His grip was ironclad, but the only pain Bulma felt was of her own doing as she tried to yank herself free. It was pointless asking where they were going. There was only one place it could be.

When they reached the bathroom door he shoved her in. She stumbled across the room and caught herself on the shower door. He followed her and pushed her in, up against the shower wall directly over her newest invention.

“What is this?” he snarled.

She glared at him over her shoulder, none too pleased by his rough treatment. “It’s a handprint reader, you jerk! Can’t you read?” 

Wait… _Could_ he read?

“I can see that,” he snapped, not exactly answering her question. He came closer — right behind her _—_ pressing his chest against her back. She froze, feeling her thin shirt stick to his sweat. One by one, Vegeta set powerful arms either side of her head, trapping her under him. He leaned down and whispered hotly against her ear, “What the hell is it for?”

Her stomach flip-flopped. Maybe she needed to reevaluate that whole _genius_ thing. “For showering, of course. You scan your hand and the system will allow hot water for 35 minutes before it turns off.”

 _Ta-da._ Somehow the big reveal had felt much more vindicating in her head than it did now. Then again, in her mind she had been rubbing her invention in his stupid face, not stammering over her device’s capabilities while posed for a body search in a B grade porno.

His fingers flexed like cat-claws on the wall. “How long?” he growled, his breath tickling the nape of her neck.

“What?” 

“How long before I can re-scan my hand? I’m assuming there’s a limit.”

“Y-yes. The system resets every six hours.”

“…Hn.” He pushed away, letting her up.

Suspicious of his too-calm reaction, Bulma cautiously turned around. He stood in the middle of the bathroom, stripping off his boots.

“Uh. What are you doing?”

He didn’t bother looking up to answer. “Taking a shower.” 

Wait, really? That was it? No arguments? No demanding she remove the device or lengthen the allotted time? “O-kay. Well, I’ll just uh…leave you to it, then.” She tried to leave.

In all her years dealing with Son Goku, Bulma had learned many things. The one that came to mind now being: Saiyans were fast. Scarily so.

One moment Vegeta was there, undressing, the next he was in front of her, gripping her wrist to stay her. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Her body broke out in chills. She summoned a scowl and tugged on her arm. “Well I’m done with you. You’re a big boy, you can shower by yourself. Let me go.”

“Not until you touch it.”

Her eyes widened, heat creeping up her cheeks at his suggestion. “ _Excuse me?_ ” There was no way he meant…?

Vegeta repeated himself slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Touch your hand. To the screen. I want your 35 minutes.”

Oh. _Oh_. Oh hell no.

“Use your own damn time,” she snapped back, still blushing furiously. 

“I plan to. Once yours has run out.”

That selfish conniving _prick_. “Over my dead body!”

He took a step forward and she took one back. His strong fingers tightened on her wrist. “If that’s what it comes to. But all I really need is your hand. If you don’t want to scan it willingly, I can just rip it off.”

She knew he could do it. He had done far worse. So why didn’t he? If his goal was to disarm her (literally), he would have done it already.

She met his gaze. “You won’t.”

He scoffed and took another step forward, butting his chest against hers. “Why won’t I? Seems you’d cause far less trouble with only one hand, and I could double the life of my shower. What do I have to lose?”

She looked into his eyes, _really looked_ behind the contemptuous veneer he put up, searching for the man she had caught glimpses of over the last few months. Like the time she passed him a bowl of rice at dinner and their fingers touched; when they watched the meteor shower on the balcony together; when he had lain half-dead and broken in her arms, the air thick with smoke from the GR’s explosion. Each time he had looked at her, their eyes meeting, and for just a moment she saw the man behind the monster. A man who made sure she had her tools before trapping her in the GR. Who learned that strawberries were her favorite food. Who even now was careful not to bruise the wrist he threatened to break.

“You’ll lose the only person that actually trusts you.”

His eyebrows rose in comical fashion, and he searched her face, concerned for her faculties. “You cannot be serious.”

Call her crazy, but she was serious. He hadn’t hurt her. He’d had so many opportunities, so many chances to twist their pranks into something cruel. Yet he always remained… playful. Tempered. She had come to look forward to his retaliations, and think up clever ways to get him back.

“If you want my hand, Vegeta, I can’t stop you. So go on. Take it.”

He stared at her with mounting dismay, black eyes glancing between her and her hand. He had no idea what to do with her confession. Or with her. Something bubbled inside him, his conflicted emotions written across his face no matter how badly he scowled. Finally, mouth thinning, he let her go.

An awkward silence filled the bathroom. 

Slowly, tentatively, Bulma placed her fingers on his chest. “Thank you.”

He grunted, not making eye contact. “Don’t let it get to your head. You’re more useful at fixing the GR with two hands, that’s all,” he grumbled.

“Uh huh,” she replied with a smile, leaning into him. “There’s a lot of useful things I can do with two hands.”

He choked and placed his fingers on her sternum, easing her back. “Vulgar woman. Don’t think you can tempt me into forgetting your transgression.”

 _Transgression?_ “Excuse me?” Bulma huffed, putting a hand on her hip. “This is my house, mister. I can do anything I wish to it. You should be _thanking_ me for putting up with your grumpy butt and unreasonable demands. No one else would.”

“And every day I ask myself if it’s really worth it.”

“How DARE YOU! You—”

Her rant was cut short by a horrible squeal as Vegeta wrenched the faucet clean out of the wall. Cold water burst out, hitting her full force.

“VEGETA!” she screamed and tried to flee the shower, but he was faster. He snapped the glass door shut and braced it closed with his hands, trapping her inside.

“Let me out, you prick!” She slammed her palms over his on the glass. “It’s freezing!”

He smirked, a wicked light dancing in his eyes. “Really? If the water is not to your liking, I believe there’s a hand scanner that will make things more clement.” 

That dirty no-good _asshole_. He was still trying to steal her hot water!

Shivering and coughing back water, Bulma nevertheless dug in. “Like I’d give you the satisfaction. I’d rather die of pneumonia!”

He huffed out a soft laugh. “You are so stubborn.” If she didn’t know better, she thought she saw a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. He cocked his head, his gaze drifting down over her trembling body. “Is that your final answer? Looks rather cold in there.”

She glanced down. Horror swept over her when she saw the state of her sopping wet shirt, turned transparent from the water.

Of all the days not to wear a bra.

“YOU PERVERT!” she shrieked, hastily standing up to cover her chest with her arms. Couldn’t she ever have a male acquaintance she didn’t accidentally expose herself to?

Vegeta stood up, still looking rather smug as he appreciated the view of Bulma trapped, cowering, and shivering like some half-drowned kitten. Then he opened the door and placed his hand on the scanner. 

The light flashed green, and hot water mercifully kicked in.

Blissful warmth seeped into her bones, and little by little, her shivering subsided. But as the cold left her, suspicion set in. “…Why?” There had to be a catch to his generosity, right?

He picked up his boots and glanced back at her through the rising steam. “If you died on me, who would I torment?”

With that, he left her standing in the shower, warm, wet, and very confused.

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t allowed to be _nice_.

How dare he.

 _This is_ not _over, Vegeta._

* * *

 

~xox~

 

 **AN:** Thanks again to **Jadefyre** for the request and idea. Hope you all enjoyed it ^_^


End file.
